Loathing
by Miharu is Haruka's Love Child
Summary: When tragedy brings him to Wammy's doorstep, the last thing Near expects is for his life to be consumed in the passion and fury of another child's destructive ways. A story of competition, obsession, and violent jealousy. Some MxM and one-sided NxM.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N**: Holy shit, I'm writing a story that isn't MxM!_

_It's 2:30 AM and I can't sleep. Also, my mum banned me from the computer so I haven't rly had a chance to update my stories. This is a mind-clearing thing to help me get over some heavy drama IRL. I don't know when I'll update, sorry, no promises there._

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The old man smiled as he parked the car on the cobbled street, his eyes resting on the wrought-iron gate as it swung ominously in the rain-pattered wind. The boy had fallen asleep, the powdery locks of his pale tresses shining dimly in the poor light that draped across him from the streetlamp.

"Wake up, child." The man prodded gently. The boy, pale as the purity of freshly fallen snow, blinked the sleepiness from his eyes. He stared at the ghostly reflection in the car's window before firmly gripping the passenger's door handle and releasing it to gravity. When the door had swung but half its course, the boy touched his feet to the damp ground, shivering from in the foreign air.

"Is this the orphanage, Mr. Ruvie?" came the quiet voice, uncertain and nearly atrophied.

"Yes, son." Replied the man, opening the heavy lock on the gate before ushering the child into the warmth and pain of his new life.

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"Near." The name sounded foreign on his tongue. He licked his lips and repeated it but his brain wouldn't quite wrap around the idea. It wasn't enough to strip him from his home, his language, his country, his…his family…but they had to take away the only thing he had left in his life? His name?

"I'm sorry." The old man softened visibly," I know this is hard for you. So many losses and changes in such a short amount of time…it's emotionally and physically taxing. You'll get a few weeks for mourning and adjusting before we try to integrate you into life here at Wammy's. For now, why don't we just get some food into your belly and find a nice bed for you to rest in?"

Nate Rivers, no, _Near_, nodded, "Thank you, Mr. Ruvie."

"Please, call me Roger."

Roger led Near to large kitchen and began to gather some nourishing leftovers for the frail boy. The soup was strange to him, and quite bland, but it was warm so he ate as much as he could. It was, at least, better than plane food. When he was finished, Roger led him through a winding hallway and up a flight of stairs. They reached a room at the end of a corridor and Roger opened it, revealing a dozen or so beds, nearly each filled with a sleeping boy.

"Shh, this is the boy's room, you may claim any unoccupied bed you wish but be careful not to disturb the others."

Near felt the door close behind him and as soon as the click sounded, several heads popped up from their beds.

"Hey look! A new kid!"

"What's your name?"

"Where are you from?"

"Do you speak English?"

It was hard to see the expressions in the darkness, even after Near's eyes adjusted. He was tired and all he really wanted to do was go to sleep.

"Damnit, I was trying to sleep, sons of bitches. Just shut up and leave the kid alone, will you?"

A body untangled itself from a bed and stretched up. Even in the shadows, Near could sense the annoyance resonating from the figure.

The boy extended his hand to Near, who hesitantly took it and was pulled towards the beds. The stranger pushed him gently into the empty bed besides his own before speaking.

"All right, here's a bed, now sleep, kay? If I get woken up one more time I'm going to raise a bloody fucking hell of a bitch fit, ya hear? So dontcha get these bastards riled up anymore tonight. They can fawn over you in the morning."

A sudden turn on the nobb and the room fell into complete silence as the old man reopened the door, light flooding in slightly from the hallway. Near looked at the boy standing across from him and almost fell backwards into the bed. Before him was an utterly feminine creature, blond hair and unforgiving eyes sparkling wickedly in the half-light.

"Go to sleep boys! Leave Near alone. If I hear that any of you were pulling any of your usual pranks, it'll be a week on toilet scrubbing duty. Yes, I'm talking to you, Mello. Now, good night!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever the fuck you say, Roger." Huffed the blond before he flung himself down on his small bed. Roger had neglected to give him nightclothes, so Near simply crawled into the space of bed and covered himself in the clean sheets and comforter.

The pain, the confusion, all of it was simply too maddening to truly just _deal with_ so the boy tried to keep his mind blank as lay awake in bed. He wished his thoughts away but they kept returning to the same ugly pattern they always did when he was left alone to do himself in. He'd never see his parents again. His adult sister wanted nothing to do with his life. He was living in a foreign country with a fake name at an orphanage for assumed geniuses. A few tears escaped his eyes as he soundlessly cried into the pillow, wondering what his new life would be like. As his thoughts drifted back to the police reports, though, he couldn't help but whimper at the thoughts of what had happened to his family.

"Ah shit. Damn newbie. Matt, Adam, Steamer! Get your asses over here."

The soft rustling of sheets came and Near felt a dip in the mattress, then another and another. He was prodded until he shifted up in the small bed and sever pairs of arms engulfed him. Shocked by the sudden contact, the boy went stiff.

"Look, it's your first night here so we'll let you get it all out, but we don't allow our feelings to get in the way of anything here, you got it? So learn to suck it up and take things like a man. Everyone's got a story. Everyone's got pain. Learn to live with it because no one gives a fuck. If I see you crying after tonight, we're going to beat the living pulp out of you."

The voice was harsh, condescending, and utterly uncomforting. Yet, the several pairs of arms around his waist tightened in soft embraces. They seemed to say _it's not as bad as it seems, we'll help you be strong. _Cold words and light touches. Perhaps it was the only way they could allow themselves to be friendly towards him. Perhaps it was the only way they managed to keep their own sanities amidst the trauma and turmoil of their situations. Perhaps they were as confused and scared as he was.

Whatever the reason, when the bodies finally pulled away and returned to their beds, the pale child was able to fall into the comfort of a dreamless sleep.

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Sooo thanks for reading, hope you like it, i'd appreciate some honest feedback if that's okay w/you all. ^_^ Again, this is my first time venturing out of Matt and Mello love stories.

Review please.


	2. Chapter 2

**Loathing Chapter 2**

**A/N**: _oh snap, an update. Again, no idea how often I'll be updating this story._

_I'll never understand why A is an official character on the drop list, but Quarter Queen and Backyard Bottomslash ect… aren't. oh well *shrugs*_

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Sun flooded through the windows in the boys' room. Near mayn't have woken from his sleep if the rays hadn't caressed warmth into his face. As he lifted his head from the small bed, he noticed for the first time, the real layout of the room.

There were two rows of beds lining the opposing walls. Each bed had a large chest in front of it and the ones adjacent to the occupied beds had ornate names carved into them. Near read some of them slowly: Adam, Beyond Birthday, Matt, Steamer, Mello, Calico Cactus…Dipstick. He furrowed his brow. Like him, they mostly all had quaint unnatural names. He was momentarily distracted by an older boy who walked up to him, shirtless and obviously not heeding his abandoned dressing ritual.

"Good morning. Near, was it? I'm Tint Mirage. Everyone's getting up and getting ready because we eat breakfast at 7:15. You can come down with everyone or by yourself."

The pale child nodded. He had no toothbrush, clothes, hairbrush, or any other kind of personal items so he wasn't sure what to do about 'getting ready'. Instead, he watched the others getting dressed. On one side of the room was a vast wardrobe full of hanging clothes. Apparently, everything was neatly sectioned off to each child as everyone seemed to know where their individual clothes were without much fuss.

A familiar feeling in his bladder caused him to turn to his neighbor, the blond boy from the night before.

"Mello, where is the W.C.?"

The blond snorted at the quizzical look Steamer shot towards the albino child.

"He's looking for the toilets, Steamer." Laughed Mello, each vibration making a ripple through his body and causing his golden mane to bob lightly, reflecting the sun's rays on natural highlights.

"Ohhh! Right." Steamer scratched his head in embarrassment, "Sorry but jeeze, Near where are you from that you speak so frickin' formally?"

"Germany," replied the younger.

A set of gasps rippled across the room and Mello dove at the boy, throwing his hand over Near's mouth. The pink eyes found steady blue and Near cringed at the grip on his face.

"We do _not_ talk about our past here. You have no family," clenched the blond through his teeth, "you have no country and you have no name other than Near. You have no past and you have no memories. Everything's a blank slate. You have nothing. Do you understand?"

Near nodded and Mello released him. An angry red handprint marked the delicate skin of Near's cheek and lips.

"Fucking newbie…W.C. is that door way at the end of the hallway on your left side."

The boy nodded and left, the large handle on the door creaking in protest as he forced the hinges to swing forward.

"Hey, wait up."

Near pivoted enough to catch himself before crashing into the form of an older teen. He recognized the build from the night before. It was one of the boys who had comforted him.

"I'm Adam." The boy extended his hand and Near took it hesitantly.

"Mello's giving you a hard time because that's just his personality. You'll like it here once you get used to it though."

"Thank you," mumbled Near. He trained his eyes on the worn patterns in the carpet as he trudged his way towards the W.C.

"Wait!"

Once again, Near was stalled as the older boy led him in a slightly different direction. Adam opened up a small closet and pulled out a few things, including some white pajamas and a clean towel.

"Here. You must want to feel clean after such a long trip and a hard night like that. There are showers in there but if you're in the need for a longer sort of soak, there's one tub and some bath salts in the corner. Wash up and change your clothes before you meet us for breakfast. You can take your soiled stuff to the laundry room downstairs."

Near tried not to wonder why the other boy was being so helpful as he walked into the room where a few other boys were brushing their teeth at sinks.

The pajamas were a little stiff against his skin, but comfortable even if oversized. He felt clean after his shower and wandered down the stairs in only his socks as a few other boys rushed past him. For the first time, Near noticed the grand chandelier hanging from the middle of the ceiling, and the gallery of paintings that cascaded down the walls. There was a strange geometric harmony in the design. Whoever had arranged them kept a sharp eye for the pattern and the pale boy was a little more than entranced in complexity of the simple hanging fixtures.

At the bottom of the steps, a flash of red curls nearly knocked him to the floor.

"Oh dear, I'm sorry! I didn't see you there. Whoa, you're new, aren't you? What's your name, kid?"

Near found himself looking at the bouncing figure of a girl, not much taller than him, but certainly older if the small clumps of acne around her nose were any indication of age. Since the girls' room was downstairs, it made sense that he hadn't seen any others yet. He was sure there would be more in the dining room, though.

"Don't you know how to talk, kid?" piqued the girl again.

"Leave him alone, Kit. You remember your fist day here, don't you? I'm sure he doesn't want to talk to anybody right now. You can stalk him after he's adjusted."

The girl turned around and blushed in the direction of a tall, plump brunette who was carrying a stack of sheets in her arms.

"Yes, Bea." Squeaked the redhead before she excused herself towards the dining room.

"Welcome to Wammy's House," came the gentle voice of the elderly woman, who tilted her head to take a good look at Near. "I'm Beatrice Ruvie, but you can just call me Bea. The other kids start hasslin' you and you make sure you come see me, alright, honey? Now go on and get some breakfast. You're so skinny."

Near watched Mrs. Ruvie walk away and had to wonder how such an old couple like she and Roger ever kept order over so many rambunctious children. He pushed the thought away as he entered the dining hall and took a seat at a long table.

Breakfast was far from enjoyable. The food was horribly bland and the other children were obstinately loud. He felt like a caged animal on display as all the fingers and whispers were directed at him. One overly-bubbly girl even tried to hug him. All the boy really wanted was for the entire affair to end so he could be left alone. Hardly touching his own food, he observed the other children. They asked him questions. He answered some. Once in a while, the cook would wander in and ask if anyone needed anything.

When it was over, Near didn't know what to do with himself. Roger suggested he wander around and get used to his surroundings. Eventually, he found himself in a large reading room with shelves upon shelves of books of all subjects and languages. He pulled a few off a shelf and sat on the floor, distracting himself from the people who attempted to become his playmates. The sun moved through its cycle and Near remained in the library until it had set and the moon rose in substitution. When he returned to the boys' room, he found his named etched into the trunk at the end of his bed. The others were already changed into their nightclothes.

As he lay down, he could hear the sounds of the other boys' breathing and then the digitized music of a videogame broke the silence.

"Goddamnit, Matt. If you're going to play your Gameboy under the covers, at least mute the shit."

"Fuck you, Mello."

"Matt, don't make me hold you down as Mello pummels you. Turn the damn sound off."

"Tch. Bring it, Beyond. You don't scare me."

The arguing continued for a few brief exchanges until Matt, quite defeated, simply shut off his device and all was quiet again. Near smiled in the darkness of the room. He couldn't say he was happy, or that even liked being at Wammy's, but somehow, he felt like he could adjust.

Somehow.

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_Plot stuffs…gah. Well, Near's nearly broken in, now. I'm going to take it slow making Near's development into the stony, cold, heartless creature we see him in canon. We'll have some conflict with the other canon characters soon. Hope you're enjoying the story._

_Review please :D_


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